


Cure for the Common Nightmare

by Malu_3 (Grainne)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e10 Queen of Hearts, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Merlin/Arthur, Merlin Canon Fest, physical intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grainne/pseuds/Malu_3
Summary: "It's never going to happen," Gwen says fiercely, pressing her face against Morgana's neck. She kisses the downy skin once, twice, then withdraws to look her in the eyes. "Never. I don’t care how many futures Morgause says there are. That isn't one of them."





	Cure for the Common Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 Merlin Canon Fest for S3ep10: Queen of Hearts. As much campy fun as it was to watch Morgana wend her way through the latter series with her evil smirks, fabulous rags and bizarre, convoluted murder plots, my heart always hurt for her character arc – and continues to do so with every rewatch – hence this little indulgent F/F re-imagining of what happens in the wake of Morgana's visions of Arthur marrying Gwen.
> 
> Thank you to the hardworking fest mods, all the other participants, and the rewatch crew for helping keep this fandom going!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Morgana is beautiful even when she's thrashing about mid-dream, wrinkling her nose like she's caught a whiff of the muck carts. Even if she wasn't though – if she, say, slobbered and farted or made evil old hag faces – Gwen would still find her exquisite, would still prefer Morgana's uneasy sleep to her being missing or lying motionless under tidy linens, on the brink of death. 

As for her recently being under the influence of cruel, scheming, quite-possibly-insane relatives… They're still working on that, day by day, but Gwen's not giving up. She refuses to let that silver-tongued bitch keep using Morgana for her own ends, twisting her heart and abusing her gifts, letting her tear herself apart over Uther's past mistakes when what they all need is to be planning for a future that won’t see them repeated.

She waits until the worst of the tremors pass before leaning down and stroking Morgana's shoulder. "My lady."

Morgana wakes with a gasp, clutching the linens to her bosom, left hand scrabbling for the bracelet that is no longer there. Her gaze wanders before finding and focusing on Gwen. The look in her eyes would be terrifying were it not so familiar. 

"Again?" Gwen says, already blowing out the candle she'd lit and toeing off her slippers. "Same as last night?"

At Morgana's nod, Gwen sets the candle aside and settles on the bed, letting herself be drawn into a tight embrace. She strokes whatever parts of Morgana are within reach – the humid silk of her hair; the solid plane of her lower back, warmth bleeding through her nightdress – and resists the urge to coo at her as she would a child. There's only one way to soothe Morgana when she's like this.

"It's never going to happen," she says fiercely, pressing her face against Morgana's neck. She kisses the downy skin once, twice, then withdraws to look her in the eyes. "Never. I don’t care how many futures she says there are. That isn't one of them."

"How can you be so sure? He does care for you, Gwen. I know it. Someday, were he free to ask…"

She shrugs. "He'll have moved on by then."

"But if – "

"I would refuse," Gwen cuts in, squeezing Morgana's shoulders. "Arthur's a good man. Despite everything, I still believe that, and I will love him as my king, if that time comes, but nothing more. Not after…" She lifts a hand to Morgana's cheek, cupping it in her palm. "You, my lady. You are my first love, my true champion."

Morgana covers Gwen's hand with her own, lifting it and kissing the base of her thumb. "Do you swear it?"

Gwen nods, leaning in, and whispers, "On my father's grave." 

She means to steal a kiss for her lips, but hesitates as a pained look flashes across Morgana's face. She forgets, sometimes, how keenly Morgana still feels every injustice, steeped as she'd been for so long in Morgause's vitriol and half-truths. And for all her strong will, she's never had the resiliency of the common folk who get on with things because they must, because grudges are a poor substitute for grain, and you can't shelter a family under righteous anger. Gwen dearly loves her for that anger, but there's always the worry that it will consume her.

"Also," she adds, scrambling for a way to leaven the moment. "I couldn't… You know me, my lady. Kind, sweet Guinevere." 

Morgana watches her steadily, eyes dark in the pre-dawn gloom. "Yes?"

"So even if I _did_ fancy marrying your brother, which I don't, I could never do that to Merlin. He puts a brave face on it, but – " Gwen nuzzles Morgana's cheek, planting a kiss at the corner of her eye. " – I believe he's as besotted with Arthur as I am with you."

Morgana huffs, but there's a smile tugging at her lips, and Gwen smiles back at having put it there, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. Perhaps this will be one of their good days. 

" _You_ believe," Morgana says. "Everyone who's ever seen them together knows that, and woe to any man who tries to come between them. Or woman, for that matter. Poor Princess Vivian." She apes a manic, wide-eyed expression and swoons back onto her pillows, crooning in falsetto, "Ooh, Arthur, my love! What I wouldn't give for the merest whiff of your divine sweaty armpits or mouldy old socks!"

"Stop that!" Gwen swats at Morgana, laughing, and rolls atop her. "Vivian was awful though, even before she was enchanted. I say poor Princess Elena…though she really did seem happier _not_ to be marrying Arthur. Hrm." She winds a tress of Morgana's hair around her finger and gives it a tug. "He does have an abysmal record when it comes to engagements, doesn’t he?"

"The worst. Don’t forget Sophia."

"Ooh, right. I wonder whatever happened to her."

"Nothing good, I hope," Morgana mutters.

Gwen tugs on her hair again, smiling as something occurs to her. "But she didn't succeed in drowning Arthur like she did in your dreams, did she? So you see, you've nothing to fret about. Just because a vision repeats… Maybe that's only because it's connected to a powerful emotion."

"Oh?" Morgana arches an eyebrow. "Such as?" She's going for nonchalance, elegant disdain, but up this close Gwen can see the creeping flush on her cheeks and her nervous swallow. 

_Fear of losing what's left of your family_ , she thinks. _Of being rejected by those you love best._

"Well, my lady…" Slowly, she withdraws her finger from Morgana's hair and lowers it to her skin, just between her collarbones. She traces shapes there: lazy circles and eye loops; a lovers' knot. "You do keep going on about the gown I'm wearing in this dream, so…I can only conclude that you're worried that I look far prettier in purple than you."

"Why, you little – "

Gwen shrieks as Morgana surges up, rolling her over and pinning her, the loose bedclothes now trapped between them. But there's no barrier between their lips, and when Morgana works her thigh in just so between Gwen's, the friction is just as good as it is when they are naked. 

Smiling, she gives in to the rhythm that Morgana sets, opening her mouth and circling her hips, working a hand free to loosen her own bodice so Morgana may pinch and suckle her there as she pleases.

If only she'd known – if only she'd been bold enough – to offer this years before, all the secrets of her heart and bodily pleasure to chase away dark thoughts, tangible reassurance that Morgana isn’t alone. If only she'd known from the start about Morgana's magic.

* * *

The sun is well up before Gwen's caught her breath and darned idle fancies back into some semblance of waking thought. She's sprawled beside Morgana; they're both on their backs, bedclothes bunched between them and hair overlapping on the pillows.

She feels good. Powerful. Giddy. She knocks the back of her hand against Morgana's and glances over. 

"Still worried I'll succumb to Arthur's charms?"

Morgana gives a quiet snort. "Less his charms than his stubbornness, not to mention your good heart. Are you so certain you'd refuse him if he pursued you?" 

"Actually…I have an idea what we could do about that."

"Oh?"

"He would never disobey a direct order from your father, surely?"

Morgana sighs. "Unless it were to do with Merlin." 

"Well yes. But. My idea is, what if we make Uther think Arthur is serious about pursuing me? Drop hints in his ear, arrange for him to see us being overfamiliar somehow, lingering somewhere we oughtn't to be alone together."

"There'd be an awful scene."

"Exactly," Gwen says brightly, hooking her little finger over Morgana's and jiggling their joined hands until Morgana looks at her. "Which, not that I look forward to it, but once Uther steps in to lay down the law, gives Arthur the whole not-even-over-my-cold-royal-corpse speech, then we're all just a few awkward moments and fumbling apologies away from it never being an issue again."

Morgana watches her for a long moment. "It might work. A rendezvous outside the city, perhaps, to spare unnecessary gossip, but…" She shivers, then disentangles their hands and sits up. She straightens her nightdress and tosses her hair behind her shoulders, staring absently across the room.

Gwen takes this as her cue to re-fasten her bodice and sit up as well. "But?" 

"No." Morgana shakes her head emphatically and turns towards Gwen, reaching for her hands. She stills them at her breast. "We mustn't. I can think of – I can _see_ – a dozen ways it could all go horribly wrong. You'd be…no. _No._ " She shudders.

"Very well then." Gwen shrugs, forcing an easy smile despite her alarm. "I'll say no more about it."

"Thank you."

"What will you do today, my lady?" Gwen eases herself from Morgana's grip and slides off the bed. "It looks to be a fine one. Shall I order your horse made ready after breakfast?"

"Two horses, I think."

"Two?" Gwen looks over. She's not quite sure how to interpret the sudden gleam in Morgana's eyes.

"Two, yes. Unless you're not free for a picnic?"

It takes a moment for Gwen to catch Morgana's meaning. When she does, it startles her, loosens her like a goblet of strong wine. She bites her lip to contain her laugh and looks down, fussing with her skirts.

"Hrm, I don’t know." She glances up, feeling herself flush at the way Morgana is staring. There's a playful, predatory warmth to it that Gwen hasn't seen in some time. At least not directed at her. "My mistress will be expecting me."

"Tell her…" Morgana taps her chin. Then she's up, dismounting the bed in one smooth motion and stalking towards Gwen. She backs her up against the carved screen that shields the small antechamber where Gwen often sleeps – or mostly pretends to, these days. She hooks two fingers in Gwen's bodice and leans in, halting just shy of Gwen's mouth. "Tell her you fear you're coming down with a fever," she says, then tugs Gwen into the kiss. 

"I fear I'm coming down with a fever, my lady," she gasps once Morgana's released her lips and moved on to claiming her neck, her shoulders, the uppermost swell of her breasts.

Then she's giggling, as it strikes her that in the moment it's not even a lie. In a way she is – in a way she _has_ – but it's not one she wishes to be cured of any time soon.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> It was pointed out to me that in this version of the episode 'verse, poor Merlin is left pouting in his room, deprived of the opportunity to insult Uther and Arthur to their faces whilst rocking his first proper beard, Gaius doesn't get to brush up on chemistry and colour theory, and the dungeon guards are left with nothing to do (when, let's face it, they need all the practice they can get). 
> 
> To which I say: Sorry gents, but I hear there's a legendary tournament in the works for next week. I'm sure you'll all be up to your ears in banter, "science", and saving Camelot from villainous saucery in no time! ;-)


End file.
